


Hanging Up

by Weasy



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Basically PWP with a bit of plot, Episode: s04e13 Journey's End, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Light Angst, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-11-29 00:16:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11429223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weasy/pseuds/Weasy
Summary: The Doctor can never go back to Pete’s world, and Rose can never leave. But that doesn’t mean they can’t find a way to communicate.





	1. The First Call

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is not rated E but the rest absolutely will be!

It was hours later that Rose found the phone in the Doctor’s pocket. The new Doctor. They’d left Bad Wolf Bay and gone to a hotel not long after the TARDIS disappeared. She knew there was no point in staying, two goodbyes’ on a beach from the same man… well.

She kept pretending she wasn’t crying but this Doctor, the new one, he knew of course. He’d made sure they got three rooms at the hotel. One each for Jackie, her and him. Then he’d not bothered to even poke his head in his. Just automatically followed her into the room at the end of the hall, slipped off his blue jacket and drawn her in his arms to hold her as she sobbed and they lay fully clothed on the bed. 

It wasn’t at all how she had been planning on the day ending. But he still felt like the Doctor. Felt like warm solid body, wrapped in a decent quality wool blend pinstripe suit. Smelt like his hair gel, still soft when her fingers brushed through that dark hair. His breath was still slightly sweet, like he’d been sneaking jelly babies from that drawer in the console he didn’t think she knew about. When she laid her head on his chest, the illusion fell away. One dull thumping beat, not two echoing each other’s rhythm. She’d waited so long to hear that again.

Eventually the Doctor fell asleep, and for the first time she wondered if he felt that same mixed bag of sadness and joy churning through her body as she did.

Then he was really, truly asleep. 

The curtains were still open and by the light of the moon she frisked his pockets. 

There wasn’t much, the metacrisis regeneration and all that followed probably hadn’t included restocking those dimensionally confusing slips of fabric, but there were a few scraps of paper covered in doodles she didn’t really understand. Which doctor had drawn them? It felt important, but there was no way to know without asking. The inside pocket of his suit jacket was a little more exciting: a banana, obviously, and a phone.

Slim and black, with a touch screen. Where had this come from? The Doctor hardly ever carried a mobile. 

Her heart skipped a beat. She’d always refused to get a company phone from Torchwood, preferring her old souped up Nokia that Mickey had reunited her with at Canary Wharf. Had he done this? Had the Doctor?

She slipped off the end of the bed, padding silently into the tiny bathroom. Her red ringed eyes darted anxiously back at the motionless figure on the bed as she eased open the bathroom door. Not wanting to wake him she waited until the door had clicked behind her before she groped around in the dark for the light switch.

The artificial light was painfully bright after sitting so long in the dark and spots danced over her vision as she quickly tried to adjust, a second later the fan slowly revved into action, the noise ridiculously loud. She held her breath, standing stock still and listening for the tiny creaks that might give away him waking. 

Nothing. 

He must be so tired after regenerating, she hadn’t even asked.

The phone was warm in her hand, caution abandoned she sat on the lid of the toilet and switched it on, finger hovering over the volume button to mute if necessary. A logo quickly flashed up, something circular she didn’t recognise. Then the clock and a familiar grid pattern of apps. She didn’t know most of the little square pictures and the lack of familiarity sat heavily in her stomach. Was her Earth and Pete’s really so different? How much had changed without her? Facebook was there and she was about to tap on it when another caught her eye. TARDIS! A tiny blue TARDIS, right there! For her? Or for the other him? She didn’t care. Joy danced through her body and her whole self rocked in a silent little victory dance, that beat her feet against the floor and her hands in the air.

She pressed down on the image and bit her lip, impatiently, watching as the blue app filled the screen. And there it was, this thing she had wanted so badly for so long. A red phone graphic, and a number. 

If it worked. 

She pressed it, every toe and finger crossed as she stared at the screen, desperate want holding her body rigid, as though the slightest movement might ruin it all. The lights in the bathroom flickered as the tiny image danced and a shrill ringing tone echoed around the brown tiled room, while three little dots flashed underneath pulsing in rhythm to the sounds. 

Then it stopped. Numbers flashed counting upwards, and the phone image turned green. 

“Hello?”

Fucking. Hell. 

It was really him.

“Doctor?” She jumped up from her seat pacing the room as she pressed the phone to her ear, other hand at her mouth as she fought the urge to bite her nails.

“Rose!” She could hear him jumping around, hear the clatter of his chucks on the metal grill of the console room floor. 

She laughed, really laughed and smiled so wide she thought she could actually burst.

“You found it! Clever girl, I knew you would!”

“Clever me? Genius you! How is this even working?”

“Oh well,” she could see his faux modest expression as well as if he were really there in the tiny cheap bathroom with her. “I’ve had a few years to work on it, Rose. A few years of hoping that if I couldn’t get you back, that maybe we could still talk sometimes. Everything else was there, just needed to crack a consistent power supply at both ends.”

In a moment, the weight of it all crashed down on her. 

Because she wasn’t going back now. He wouldn’t be trying to find her anymore. Everything settled as far as he was concerned. 

A sudden rush of anger flushed through her and she had to fight the urge to hang up on him. 

“Rose?” He was moving round the console room. She could hear the hum of the TARDIS and the reminder of what she could no longer have hurt.

“Rose? I’m so sorry. I-” He sighed.

She wanted to say it was okay, but it wasn’t. “How could you let Mickey choose for himself, and not me?”

A thump echoed down the line. “I did. I let you choose, Rose. You kissed him.”

“But I didn’t know!” Rose sunk down to the lino floor, back against the cool avocado coloured plastic of the bath, her knees clutched in front of her. “I didn’t know I was choosing. I – I want you. I always wanted you.”

“He is me.”

Tears rolled silently down her cheeks and she paused to catch her breath, to hide her upset from him. “He’s not though.”

“Yes, Rose, he is. Otherwise he would’ve got rid of this phone. Can’t be jealous of yourself talking to your girlfriend, can you?”

He was making her head hurt. She closed her eyes and listened to the fan’s whirr and click, slotting into rhythm with the hum of the TARDIS audible on the phone. The Doctor was thrumming his fingers against something metallic and her fingers twitched in response. “It’s not enough. I never, we never got to even-” It was too much, a sob escaped from her throat and he was shushing her immediately.

“Oh no, please don’t Rose, please. I wish it was different, I wish…” His voice petered out.

“Do you?” She sniffled

“Yes!” A clunking echo. He’d bashed something. “We were so close Rose, and I was so stupid, it’s my fault and I lost you, but you can still be happy and I want you to be, please Rose, please.”

“I can’t be happy without you.”

“You will. I promise. Just give him a chance, please.” He was begging now and she felt guilty, then angry at herself for feeling guilty.

Rose leaned forward, sighing heavily and hugging her arms tighter around her knees as she rested her head against her tangled limbs. “You know I will. But I still need you.”

“I need you. I always need you Rose.” Was he smiling? She couldn’t tell. “Keep the phone. It’s for you, and I will call you. I promise.”

“How often?”

A long pause. “I don’t know, we’ll have to work it out. Enough that we always know we’re both safe…”

“…Not so much that we stop living our lives.” She finished. God it was tempting, to just hole up with this phone and a charger, oh no, better: to set him up on speaker phone all through her flat. 

A high pitch whine, followed by a crash and bellowing roar erupted from the handset, “Sorry Rose, I’ll ring you back later!”

Then flat dial tone.


	2. Home Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the Kudos, hope you enjoy this next (way more explicit you have been warned) part. Let me know what you think!  
> 21/7 - I'm a terrible tinkerer so I rewrote and edited this today to fit better with the tone of the final chapter. Would love to hear any thoughts.

Weeks had passed since she’d danced around a tiny Scandinavian hotel bathroom, clutching the stolen phone and dreaming of the next time it would ring. 

Rose carried it around religiously, charged overnight by her bed and in her pocket in the day. She told the Doctor it was from Torchwood, and no one contradicted her even though it never rang.

The Doctor hadn’t moved in with her. Not officially. He had his own place, in the same block as her London flat but two floors below. She had no idea if he ever actually used it though. He slept in her bed most nights, or on the sofa surrounded by stacks of books that had started rapidly arriving not long after the Doctor had. So did little knick-knacks, a bizarre mix of tools and metal widgets muddled up with tiny mementos all stacked in crates or hidden in drawers around the flat. It no longer looked anything like the bland, white walled box it had once been, her meager Pete's World possessions tucked away behind in built cupboard doors designed to look invisible and furnished with a motley collection of battered furniture her parents no longer wanted and Rose had figured would do until she was returned to the TARDIS.

Going back to the TARDIS was no longer an option, and her half hearted efforts at making the place more homely; a fluffy cushion here, a candle there, between long shifts at Torchwood had been drowned by the reappearance of the million little trinkets that appeared in the wake of the Doctor's double.

Sometimes the Doctor disappeared for a few days, when the restless beat of his single heart became too much. Usually they went together. He wasn’t a big fan of the airships, but they’d hop on a ferry or the train and place bets on how far they could get away from London in twenty four hours, forty eight, thirty six. How high above the earth, how deep below the surface. Rose loved it, even though it was never quite the same as before. Never quite as dangerous, or as unpredictable.

Torchwood did not approve. Torchwood were perfectly clear that now they had the Doctor on their team both of them were assets and should be managed so, kept out of harms way as much as possible. 

Torchwood was going to lose both of them if it wasn’t careful.

Pete was getting antsy about it all she knew, he was used to Rose being around now, loved her and tolerated the Doctor. The Doctor had had the weekend off, and plans so many plans to whisk her away somewhere exciting; but Pete had convinced Rose to stay in London, spend time with her neglected Mum. 

Rose had run, halfway through dinner when her parents had started asking questions about the future, about weddings and babies and mortgages. Back to her empty flat, overflowing with the Doctor’s stuff and memories of his vague whispered promises that she was never quite sure if she could really believe. She didn’t want to turn the lights on, so she moved into the living area of the flat guided only by the light pollution from the streets below the huge windows. She never had bought curtains, and the pale city street light reflected off her walls in a familiar yellow ochre. The Doctor had told it was called that once, on one of their early, more awkward dates, stood holding hands in front of Van Gogh's sunflowers at the National Gallery. 

The sunflowers were beautiful. But for Rose, that glowing pigment was forever now associated with the soothing hum of engines, of laughter and covert glances around a central column radiating light. She closed her eyes, trying not to let her thoughts get bogged down in what ifs and paradoxes again.

That was when the Doctor chose to ring.

“Rose?” Sadness tinged his voice, and she yearned to reach out and take his hand. 

“Where are you?” She asked even though he didn’t need to say, she could hear the thrum of it.

“I’m in the TARDIS. Just back from Mars.” There was the gentle clatter of him flipping the sonic in the air and catching it in his waiting fist, an audible memory so distinct Rose's brain squealed at her in recognition.

Rose couldn’t sit still and paced the floor between the wide picture windows and the living space's door, circling through the kitchen, round the dining table and past the sofas and back. Each turn revealing a new view on the scattered objects of the metacrisis Doctor. Catching the light slightly differently, or peeking out from under a stack of paper. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

A copper wing nut caught her eye and Rose picked it up and played with it as she spoke. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. You need someone.”

“No.” He paused, and she could hear him walking around past the central controls, slumping in the jump seat. “I need you.”

Regret caught in her throat, and sat painfully, so that she had to breath in deeply before she spoke. “I’m so sorry.”

“We don't need to talk about Mars.” He said abruptly, then another long silence. “Are you living together Rose? You and him?”

Her mouth was dry. What did he want her to say? What was even true? “Yes.”

“Good.” The Doctor cleared his throat. “That’s good.”

An awkward pause hung between them. She hoped he wasn’t burning more suns for this. 

“I miss you.” The words slipped out as soon as she thought them. 

He laughed, a small dry chuckle, and the sound of it reverberated hopefully through her, joy chasing it's heels. “Rose Tyler, I miss you too.” 

“Yeah?” she flopped down on the sofa, happily throwing her feet over one arm and resting her head against the other, wing nut still rolling through the fingers of her left hand. “How much?”

“Enough to dream about you.” The Doctor confessed, and a vision of his eyes staring at her as he spoke danced in her head.

“Mm. What kind of dreams?” She knew damn well what kind of dreams she had about him.

“Rose, in my dreams…” She bit her lip, nervous energy coursing through her veins. “You are filthy.”

Rose couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“Oi!” His mock offence echoed over the line.

“Sorry, it’s just, years. Years I slept down the hall from you, bloody - I dunno - yo-yo of frustration I was living in. And now you say it.”

“Well, that’s completely, annoyingly true and if I could think of a way, Rose Tyler, to go back and do it all again you’d’ve seen a lot less of the stars and a lot more of my bed...” Her stomach lurched “But, now – now we have this.” 

She could picture him wiggling the phone in her face like she was stupid and he was the best damn Time Lord in the Universe. “Mmm.” She agreed. 

His voice dropped lower “And I need you to do what I say.”

The phone felt sweaty in her palm, a plastic and glass reminder of their separation. 

“If you do what I say.”

“I would do anything for you.”

She closed her eyes, and he jumped fully into her vision behind the closed eyelids. Sprawled on the jump seat, his brown suit on, shirt, tie, chucks with the laces half undone. His legs splayed wide and one hand draped over his knee and the other clamping the phone to his ear. “Then tell me about your dream.”

“Ohhh,” She’d got it right, could hear him leaning back, the creak of the leather jump seat, one hand ruffling his hair. “Last time, Rose, last time you were here in the control room. We’d been at the great waterfall of Humanis Five. You got soaked, and you trailed into the TARDIS dripping wet and so mad at me.”

“Sounds about right.” Rose snuggled down into the sofa, pulling a discarded blanket out from under her bum and chucking it over the back of the sofa, underneath was one of her Doctor’s abandoned shirts. She turned away from it. “Then what happened?”

“You took off your jacket, and dumped it on the floor, and reminded me I’d lost a bet.”

She snorted “You’re always losing bets.”

Another teasing silence before he spoke again, stretching out his words in contemplation. “Yeah… But then, then you kept taking off those wet clothes. Kept dropping them on the floor.” 

She could hear a rustle of fabric. “What are you doing?”

“Taking off my jacket. And you. Do the same.”

Wedging the phone between her shoulder and her ear she unzipped her jacket and slid it off her shoulders before throwing it on the floor. She hadn't even really clocked she was still wearing it. The shadows above her flickered and elongated as a car drove past on the street below. “What was the bet about?’

He paused, sounding slightly embarrassed “I said we’d both fit underneath the umbrella while we sailed past the waterfall.”

She giggled again and with every confession he became more real to her. The same jump seat pose, sprawled out, jacket slung over a railing. But now he was here too in this room, sat in the battered old cream leather wing back chair opposite her couch, one foot propped up on a stack of books. His eyes were on her.

“And what was my prize?”

He sucked in a breath and in her mind’s eye she saw him gazing up at the ceiling and considering his response. “You wanted me to play a game of chess.”

Rose was pretty sure this was not how most people’s sex dreams went. “Really?” she teased.

“Er. No.”

“Nine hundred years, you’d think you’d’ve done this before.”

He laughed and she heard the slick sound of his silk tie being loosened and pulled through the collar of his shirt. “Have you?”

What harm could confessions to another dimension do? “Well… sort of. I was pretty drunk, fell asleep. Not really what the bloke was hoping for.”

She could sense him smiling through the void. “D’y’know, I don’t think either of us are that good at this.”

“Oi!” Now she was offended. “You, sir, need to buckle up, or off, actually, because I’m taking charge.”

The jump seat squeaked as he sat up straighter. “Yes ma’am.”

“Doctor, take off your shirt… and your belt.”

Her Doctor hesitated, just for a moment “It’s a bit cold in here.”

Rose laughed again, and it rose through her body like hope. He was so himself today. 

“No, Doctor, it’s not cold, because I remember Humanis Five was beautiful and tropical and because I’m there with you." She dropped the wing nut on the floor and listened to it bounce while she let her words sink in. "I'm leaning against the console, I’ve stripped off that sodden jacket and the wet trousers and all those soaking layers of tee shirts and underwear, and when you take off your lovely dry shirt I put it on and watch you undress as you’ve been told.” She paused, listening to his muffled movements. “How are you feeling now?”

He hissed quietly in response, “I’m definitely not cold.” She could hear him leaning back again, the slight squeak of the jump seat’s frame. “I can see you, by the console, next to the monitor, in my shirt – the light blue one. You haven’t bothered to do it up, and Rose, you are so beautiful.”

Rose closed her eyes again and imagined him in the dim light of her flat, in that battered old chair, his hungry eyes fixed on her. Watching as she stripped naked. Jeans weren’t really the most elegant clothes to try and take off alluringly, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Glancing at the large panes of glass to her left she grabbed at her Doctor’s discarded shirt and threw it over her shoulders, then switched the phone to speaker mode before lying back down on the sofa and balancing it on the arm of the sofa near her ear. “So are you, Doctor, so perfect.”

“I walk over to you and climb into your lap, my legs either side of your hips.” she found herself whispering, as though someone might hear what they were up to. “I lean down and kiss you. I’ve been waiting for this all day, I’m… hungry for you.”

“My hands are on your hips, your skin is so soft and warm and I can feel the heat of you in my lap as I run my fingers up and down the curve of your hips.” She sighed, and he chuckled in a low voice. “You sigh like that, against my lips and I can’t be patient anymore. I slide my hands up over your body to cup those fantastic breasts.”

Self-consciousness abandoned Rose and she did as instructed, substituting her own hands for the Doctor’s under the soft cotton of the shirt. “It feels so good, and I need you so much. I start kissing and licking my way down your body, finding your nipples and teasing my teeth over one while my fingers play with the other.” She waited for the hiss that told her the Doctor was playing his part and moaned in return as she stepped up her own movements, pinching and rolling her own flesh the way she liked it best. 

“We both reach down between us.”

“You undo my fly, and lift your hips slightly so we can slide my trousers and underwear down.”

“My hand finds your cock.” She blushes, slightly, in the dark but keeps going the image of him pleasuring himself burned in her mind “and your clever fingers find my clit.”

He moans this time, a low guttural sound that reminds her of so much “We’re kissing again, I can see how turned on you are, you’re biting your lip.”

She was. 

“It feels amazing, every brush of your skin against mine burns like all those stars we’ve seen, they’re dancing under my skin. I need to come, but I want you.” 

“We move together, guiding me inside you and it feels…”

“…perfect.”

It was getting hard to keep talking meaningfully, and they both gave way to whispered murmurs of names and joy as they pleasured themselves.

Rose can still see him, two versions. One brown eyes boring straight into hers as she rocks above him their bodies move in synchrony, watching his lips part and sigh as he groans in ecstasy. The other, if she glances across the room on the jump seat, hooded eyes staring intently into hers across the room as his hand fists his cock, sighing in pleasure for her entertainment. 

The orgasm rips through her in waves and his groans join hers a moment after. Panting she fumbles around for the phone, takes it off speaker and draws it tight to her ear.

“How was that for a phone call?”


	3. He's Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last part, and now we're into Ten/Ten II/Rose. Enjoy!  
> PS I rewrote chapter 2, if anyone wants to go back and check it out.

The phone’s vibrations echoed loudly against the wooden dresser and Rose snatched it up off the battered oak surface to muffle the buzzing against her palm, heart thumping in her chest. Microseconds passed while she waited to see if the Doctor in her flat had heard, listening for the sound of him coming back from the kitchen and towards their bedroom door. A peek at the screen told her what she already knew and she answered it with a frantic press of the button “Doctor,” she breathed “he’s here.”

“Oh.” The thrum of the TARDIS was almost inaudible over the line, so that the Doctor’s pause hung heavy and empty between them. “And?”

Rose fisted her hair anxiously with her free hand as she paced the fluffy cream rug and hoped it would muffle the sound of her harried footsteps, phone pressed tightly to her cheek. “He doesn’t know about this, just ring me later okay?”

She could hear him sucking in a breath. Imagine his expression, half turned away but demanding her attention. “No. It has to be now, Rose. Just tell him.”

Rose paused, catching her reflection in the scratched old mirror above the bed she shared with the metacrisis Doctor. Early evening light flooded the room, pink and orange that lengthened the shadows of mismatched furniture and alien trinkets that filled the room. The blood seemed to have rapidly drained out of her face, leaving her pale and a bit ill looking. “Are you joking?”

“No… He knows about that phone, I gave it to him.”

“Yes,” Rose conceded, slightly desperately, “but you didn’t say ‘by the way, I’m going to use this to repeatedly have phone sex with our girlfriend’ did you? Also I’ve been telling him you’re Torchwood.” 

He laughed and, just for a moment, she wondered if the two Doctors had actually had that conversation. If in those brief moments all three of them had spent in the TARDIS they had snuck some time to discuss her future sex life. 

“It’s not funny!”

He smothered his laugh temporarily, “Is a bit.” Then snorted inelegantly and the urge to reach out and slap his arm felt bitter in the back of her mind. 

“It’s not! I’m half dressed arguing with you when I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on him. We’re going to some Torchwood award thing,” she wasn’t sure if she was reminding the Doctor or herself but she ploughed on regardless. “It’s a big fucking deal that he’s even going to go.”

“Really? I love prizes!” He seemed surprised, genuinely, and Rose wondered just how long it had been for each of them since that bay in Norway.

Rose sighed “He’s not you though, is he. He’s you trapped on one planet and one time and he needs… something more.”

“He needs you.” She could almost see his wry smile. “half dressed would probably do nicely. Which half?”

She clicked her tongue against the top of her mouth and smoothed one hand against the lace of her fancy underwear, the scarlet red bold against the pale peach of her skin and mentally reminded herself not to get sucked in tonight. “Tell me about what you’re doing. Where were you last?”

“Ohh, lots of places. Busy, busy. I saved some people from the Red Carnivorous Maw.”

“Of course.”

“Supposed to go see the Ood next, but I thought… it can wait a little longer.”

Rose smiled at herself in the mirror, it might have been, God… months, years if she really thought about it that they’d been sneakily having these calls but the happy glow of being remembered, needed, still clung to her like a second skin every time she heard his voice. “The Ood! How are they? Still stuck as slaves?”

“Not so much, that was Donna who free’d the Ood actually. Brilliant she was.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Her grin widened. “You never told me how she is now.”

“Oh, Donna’s fine, with her granddad. New bloke I think. All fine.” He was a little quieter, like he’d turned away slightly from the phone. The way the Doctor always did when he was hiding things, but Rose didn’t press it. They were both entitled to their secrets. “What prize has other me won?”

“Other you?” She twisted a lock of hair through her fingers as she turned away from the mirror and towards her wardrobe. She really should finish getting dressed, remove the temptation. “Both of us I’ll have you know. Saved the Earth from aliens, again.”

The Doctor clicked his tongue, and she wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder as she opened the wooden doors and flicked through her stash of formal dresses. “Naturally! But tell me how, Rose Tyler, tell me all the details-” 

A hand slid around her waist. The incredible softness of the cloth of the Doctor’s tuxedo pressing against the bare skin of her back.

Shit.

The phone suddenly felt sticky in her palm. The Doctor on the TARDIS was still talking, rambling on about something or other and she couldn’t bring herself to move the phone away from her ear nor to turn and look at the Doctor in their bedroom. 

Familiar hands roved around her waist and smoothed over the skin of her stomach. Skimming the lace of her pants and pulling her closer into him as his face nuzzled the back of her neck.

“He’s here.” She breathed. 

The TARDIS hummed particularly loudly, like she was trying to help. “Good. What’s he doing?” the Time Lord’s casual tone emanating from the phone by her ear was less reassuring.

The panic of earlier was rising back in her belly, until her limbs felt cold and the Doctor’s lips alien in their touch. She felt the Doctor pause against her skin, listening to her response. “Kissing my neck?”

The Doctor chuckled over the line and the man behind her gripped at her hips with both hands. “Put him on speakerphone.”

For a moment she didn’t realise which Doctor had asked. “How long have you known?” She asked her partly human companion, staring intently at the phone as she switched the phone’s settings in a blatant move to avoid his eyes.

“Since it started.” 

“Oh no, be honest.” She could hear the Doctor on speakerphone walking around, moving through the TARDIS now, as he spoke. “You must have been asleep the first time. Like a newborn baby after regeneration.”

The Doctor arched his body back from Rose, spinning her around in his arms to face him and sliding the phone from her hand like he’d done it a million times before. The Doctor held the phone between them, Rose still trapped pressed against him in his other arm and their feet almost overlapping on the wooden floor. He gazed into her eyes, aeons deep brown meeting their softer reflection and requesting patience. This the Doctor certainly had done a million times before. “Okay, fine, not the first time. The second time, definitely. I came back from a few days away and she was practically glowing. I knew it was you.”

“You don’t… mind?” Rose ventured, heart hammering painfully in her chest.

The Doctor leaned into her, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. Warmth flowed through her body from the simple contact, bringing reassurance with it like a sneaky plus one. “Why would I mind? We’re the same. Mostly. I know you love us.”

Rose still felt like she was confessing. “I didn’t want to choose. I couldn’t choose.”

“This isn’t about choosing.”

The Doctor on the phone was silent, but she could hear him moving around, back in the console room like always, flipping leavers and feet scuffing against the coarse metal grating. 

The Doctor in front of her moved the phone closer to his mouth, eyes locked on Rose’s still. “You wanted me to catch you, didn’t you?” Something deep inside her twinged in delicious excitement at his movements.

“Yes.” 

Maybe Rose wasn’t the only one with a need to unburden their soul.

“What do you want?”

The restless pacing of his chucks against the grid floor of the console room ceased completely. “I want you: Rose, I want to be there. But I can’t. I have to…” the sentence hung unfinished, as always and Rose crushed her eyelids together as a series of pained memories of half confessions flashed through her brain. “Give me this, please, Rose.”

The Doctor’s hand on her waist gripped Rose closer and met her mouth in a soft kiss again. “I don’t understand.” Rose confessed, the words murmured so low against his lips she wasn’t sure either would hear her.

The Doctor laughed, a small low chuckle that she felt vibrating against her chest. “He wants this Rose,” and he raised his hand to skim it up over the soft flesh of her hips, waist, ribs until his fingers were skirting the base of her bra, thumb sweeping upwards to brush over the swell of her breast. “He wants to be here with us.”

“Do you?” 

The Doctor didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” 

Rose closed her eyes. Centering in on the feel of The Doctor that was here’s hands sliding over her body, waiting patiently for permission to continue to less neutral zones. As if the fact that he was touching her at all wasn’t enough to set her senses on fire. Her ears were full of the low base sounds of the TARDIS the steady rise and fall of the console’s central time column drifting up and down like old fashioned bellows. “Okay.” She agreed. It was possible she had gone completely mad. “But, I-” she licked her lips nervously. “You need to talk to us, okay? You need to be…” she searched for the right word. “Present. Not just listening in.”

He didn’t reply and she wondered if she had pushed the quieter Doctor too far. 

Beside her, the other Doctor took over. “I’m not wearing the blue suit. It’s a tuxedo, because of the award thing. Black suit and bow tie, white shirt. Not sure about it.”

Rose smiled at him, grateful for his presence, and squeezed his upper arm gently. “I like the bow tie. It’s sexy.”

“Of course it is.” The Doctor on the phone added. “I’m very dapper in anything.”

Rose laughed. “What about you then?”

There was a pause like he’d had to look down to check. “Brown suit, white daps, blue shirt.” 

The Doctor who’d gone back to kissing and licking her neck paused and glanced at the phone “No tie?”

“Not today, I could pretend-”

“No.” Rose cut in quickly. “I love you without a tie, the top buttons undone and your hair all mussed up at the end of a long day.” 

The Doctor gave a dry chuckle and she could hear his hand ruffling his hair in response. Heat swelled low in her body and Rose closed her eyes, letting one hand drift up the Doctor’s sleeve, feeling the firm warmth of his muscles under his jacket until her fingers found the back of his neck and buried into the short chestnut brown hairs there.

“And you, Rose?”

The Doctor she was pressed against glanced down to check out the swell of her breast, presented beautiful in the red cradle of her bra. He leered at her and she rolled her eyes, trying not to be embarrassed. 

“I never did get dressed.” She admitted. “So, yeah, a red bra and pants. They’re kind of lacy.”

“Red like the lushberries on Gallifrey, just as they turn ripe. They’re kind of sexy.” The Doctor corrected.

Rose flushed pink.

“Does that mean we’re overdressed?” The Doctor mused over the phone.

In front of her the Doctor reached for his bow tie slipping the silk from it’s simple knot, stepping slightly back so he didn’t accidentally elbow Rose in the face in the process. She’d like to say that had never happened before, but, the Doctor had always been kind of exuberant. Instead she backed away until the back of her knees hit the bed, the touch of the cotton duvet cover stopping her before she bashed herself against the metal frame. It was kind of hard to concentrate while her Doctor paced towards her, dropping his expensive black jacket on the floor without looking at it, before propping the phone up against a glass on the bedside table and moving on to unbuttoning his white shirt. 

Each movement loosened Rose’s grip on her nervous reality slightly, pushing her beyond the part of her brain that still wondered what the Doctor thought about her. Slowly she lowered herself down onto the covers, sitting down with her feet tucked up to one side. Mindful of the phone’s range she leaned over towards it, switching position to lying on her side and propping her head up on her wrist as she watched the Doctor undress, the soft hum of the TARDIS and the muffled sound of the other Doctor following suit in her ears. “Talk to me, Doctor.”

The Doctor in front of hers head flickered to the phone; stayed silent, well aware of who Rose meant. 

“I'm in my room, Rose. It’s still the same, if you were wondering. The TARDIS stopped doing that thing where she kept moving the bed around. Also, I am naked, as requested.”

Rose giggled, fond memories of him and his arse unexpectedly hitting the floor and not his mattress rising to the surface of her subconscious. 

She felt the end of the bed dipping, and realised the Doctor in the room had finished stripping too. He sat by her feet, fingers reaching out to brush across the soles of her feet and up around her ankles, eyes on her. “You came second in the getting naked race.” Rose pointed out, helpfully.

“Oi, you didn’t say it was a race!” he protested, stretching out over her on his hands and knees. “And how many other contests will there be?”

“Oh no no no, no more race. Now it’s all team events.” Rose explained, reaching out for her phone handset and drawing it over to lie on the covers beside them as the Doctor finished climbing up her body. 

“I should hope so.” The Doctor on the phone replied, “Don’t want certain people getting distracted, when they should be busy kissing those beautiful breasts.” He gazed up at her wolfishly before doing as told, pressing hungry open mouthed kisses against the lace surface that stretched over her chest before hastily pulling her up, so he could reach behind her back and unclasp the beautiful but none the less in the way garment and move it out of his path. As soon as the bra was flung aside they fell back onto the bed, Rose groaning the moment his lips fell around one nipple, as he teased as much noise as possible from her with every nibble and lick of each mound. 

Close to her ear Rose could hear the Doctor’s pleased sighs, and found herself feeling deliciously wicked sandwiched between two versions of the same man. “Doctor,” She murmured, running one hand as far down the chest of the man in front of her as she could, fingers tangling through the hairs that gathered there “I want you here. I want to be running my hands down over your chest-” a twist of her nipple made her gasp and she grabbed at the Doctor’s hair, “feeling you beside me as you kiss me. Fingers in my hair. Hands on my breasts.”

“Your skin is so beautiful. An unmarked map to explore and I do, Rose, I do.” 

“I’m impatient to see you, explore, and I roll you over on the bed.” She nudged the Doctor slightly and he let her push him over onto his back until she was sat straddled on his lap. Red underwear pressed against the hardness of his cock. “so I can sit in your lap, feeling the warmth of you between my thighs.” The Doctor shifted against her lifting his hips to grind against her and snatching a groan from her lips. 

“I love you like this, the way you look above me. That golden hair falling down past your shoulders and brushing against my skin as you lean down to kiss me.” The Doctor smiled up at her, hopefully, and she obliged, leaning down to kiss him. 

She drew back, a little regretfully, a moment later and started to slide down his body. “I love kissing you,” she agreed. “I love the way your skin tastes and feels, I love moving down over your chest to tease you.” Dozens of other phone calls flashed through her brain, a veritifiable education in exactly just how much the Doctor loved to be wound up and later used mercilessly against the metacrisis Doctor in turn. 

Perhaps this threesome had been going on longer than she realised. 

“You are so talented, Rose.” He breathed over the phone and she resumed her journey, shifting the Doctor’s limbs around slightly so she was sat between his legs, hands on either side of his hips.

“So are you,” she replied “you make me feel crazy just being here.” She ran her fingers up the inside of his thighs. “Now that this is a thing we do, I find it almost impossible not to touch you constantly. Can’t resist kneeling between your legs. Taking your balls in my hands and your cock in my mouth.” She felt oddly free, smiling wickedly up at the Doctor in front of her as she moved closer to lick the length of him.

Matching groans greeted her ears. “You are so good at this.”

“Just… brilliant.”

She took him inside her mouth, shifting position to grip the base of his shaft with one hand. For a few moments she forget herself, concentrating on her breathing as she sucked and moved around him, feeling him strain against her and the sounds of his pleasure in her ears. Until his hands were in her hair, touching her shoulders and guiding her away and back towards her mouth. “Rose, I’m close.”

“Let me…” Darkened eyes met hers, and his arms wrapped around her rolling her back into the mattress as he reached between them, pushing under the band of her pants to find her core and rubbing against her as she gasped into his lips. “…I want to taste you.”

He was there in moments, stripping the last slip of red fabric from her legs and settling his mouth tight against her clit. “Doctor!” Her hips jerked and he gripped them with his fists in turn, holding her in place as he licked and sucked. The pleasure burned through her body, tight pressure that built in every nerve and synapse until she felt impossibly turned on, so close it was painful. “I see stars.” She panted, “I always see stars, streaming towards us.” Fingers found their way inside her rubbing at the hidden nerves that sent her tumbling over the edge, crying out for her Doctors as she did so. 

For brief panting moments, there was nothing but the hot white flashes of stars bursting against the blackness, not disappearing, but reappearing as her body spasmed in joy. 

The Doctor’s were both talking to her, soft words about beauty and love and forever. Her vision came back just in time to catch the Doctor’s self satisfied smirk, and she smiled lazily back at him as he positioned his hips beside hers and slid inside her. 

Rose grabbed at the phone, drawing it closer as the Doctor lowered himself down over her, peppering the odd kiss across her lips and neck as he drew in and out of her murmuring towards the phone, or her, or both about her perfect she was, how glorious. The friction against her overwrought senses building wonderfully as he shifted his hips to hit the sweet spot she needed, waiting for her to start babbling again about them and stars and how oh so good she felt inside and out. A second orgasm ripped through her body and they joined her immediately, two guttural cries mingling amongst her moans.

The Doctor collapsed against her, face pressed against her neck and she drew her arms around him tiredly. Feeling for the hundredth time that she would rather be slightly crushed than risk letting go of him again. 

“Doctor, I love you.”

“Course you do.” They both replied.

The Doctor rolled off her, and she cradled the phone between them, listening happily to their synchronised heavy breathing, until her eyelids started to feel far too impossibly heavy to keep open and she thought that maybe just for a moment she’d rest and close them.

Soft snores followed not long after.

A satisfied smile settled across the Doctor’s face and he reached out to switch the phone off speaker. “We’ve worn her out.”

“I forgot she snored sometimes.” The Doctor confessed. “It seems so cute now.”

“Annoying at the time.” 

“Well, maybe.” He drawled. “I don’t know. Annoying doesn’t seem very important now.” He didn’t need to explain; perhaps that was why he had said it, now, when only the metacrisis version of himself was listening. “I think it will be soon: the song is ending.”

“He will knock four times.”

“That’s what they say.”

The Doctor lay on the bed, beside the curled form of his sleeping Rose, and couldn’t help but eradicate the distance between them, pulling her closer until her head was resting on his chest and his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He spotted a blanket half knocked off the edge of the bed and managed to grab it without waking her, pulling it over her still body and pressing a kiss to her forehead in one smooth movement.

“Make sure she knows I love her.”

The Doctor didn’t even hesitate to promise. “I will. I’ll be here.”


End file.
